Remember the alarm that was going off at the end of last chapter? Well, this installment starts there, and ends up somewhere completely different. I guess I'm feeling sentimental this week. Happy Mother's Day, everybody!

"Three point eight minutes slower than the last pilot." Admiral Ackbar swiveled his big round eyes from the out-of-breath pilot down to his padd. "That is unacceptable, Commander Dameron. You should have been the first one to your ship, not the last."

Poe ground to a halt in front of the Mon Calamari. "This was a drill? A drill?"

"That is not the proper response, Commander. Why were you so slow to report to your fighter?"

"Sir," he said, slipping back into Republic formality, "I apologize. I…couldn't find my boot, sir."

Ackbar frowned, as much as it was possible for his species to frown. "You can pilot an X-wing with one boot, Commander. Your response time was nearly five minutes faster during our last drill. Even your droid got here before you did."

"He doesn't wear boots," Poe mumbled to the floor, then straightened up and looked at the admiral. "Sorry, sir. I'll do better from now on."

"You must." Ackbar turned towards Major Ematt. "I think Captain Wexley was right to insist on these nighttime drills. The officers need them as much as the soldiers."

Wexley requested this? Poe suddenly understood. Revenge for pounding their shared wall with Rey's rump. He glanced around, and saw Snap standing in front of his X-wing. He winked and smiled in smug satisfaction. Oh, I'm gonna kill him, Poe thought.

General Organa stepped towards them. All thoughts of Breha's spectacular backside vanished from Poe's brain, hopefully before Organa could sense them. She said something quietly to Admiral Ackbar, then looked at Poe. "Walk with me, Commander."

"Yes, ma'am," he said obediently and fell into line one step behind her. She walked briskly from the outdoor hanger back towards the base. The comforting smell of jet fuel filled Poe's nose.

She noticed him walking a pace behind her, and frowned. Everyone was scowling at him tonight, it seemed. "You can walk next to me, you know."

"Yes, ma'am, I just thought I should, uh…"

"I left the 'princess' thing behind a long time ago, Poe. Really. Just walk like a normal person."

"Yes, General." He moved up alongside her and hurried to keep up. For a small woman, she had a surprisingly long stride.

Leia thought for a moment, wanting to explain things differently than Ackbar had. "There's nothing like being on a crowded underground base when you hear the scream of TIE fighters approaching," she said meditatively. "You look around and realize that most of the people you're standing next to are about to get killed. Then the bombs start dropping, the ceiling collapses, and you just run. It's probably much easier to be in the cockpit, in relative silence, responsible only for yourself."

They entered the base and she led him to the mess hall. "I need some tea."

"Tea sounds good, General."

She lifted one eyebrow and smiled a little. "If I'd said 'I need some brandy,' would you have answered the same way?"

Poe grinned. "Brandy also sounds good, General."

She pressed her lips into a straight line, but her eyes sparkled with humor. "Let's stick with tea. It's pretty late."

"Yes, ma'am," he said agreeably. "I'll get it."

They sat at a corner table, out of earshot from anyone else, and let the warmth of the mugs creep into their hands. Leia continued speaking. "When the First Order attacks us—and that's a when, not an if—they will have a few different objectives. Of course, there's the military aim, to destroy our munitions and ships and the base itself. But Snoke and Kylo Ren have a different goal, which is to kill Luke and capture Breha."

"Capture…?"

She looked at Poe with the same luminous chestnut eyes that Rey had. "Capture her, and turn her to the Dark Side. Snoke wants a new apprentice."

"Rey would never turn," Poe said confidently.

Leia looked down at her tea. "That's what I used to think about my son," she whispered. "If you hurt someone enough, torture them and confuse them and blame their pain on everyone but you…people react to that in unexpected ways. And Breha doesn't have enough maturity, enough mental defenses, to resist much torture. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. But I don't intend to find out."

"Do you have a plan to defend Breha during an attack? That's why I was late. I didn't know what to do about her. But then Chewbacca was in the corridor, running towards my room, so I stopped to talk with him. One-sided conversation, though, since I don't speak Shyriiwook."

"You mean it wasn't your boot's fault you were late?" Leia said in mock surprise.

"Uh, no."

She smiled into her teacup. "I thought you were just busy in bed with Rey."

Poe stammered something intelligent, like "I uh um no uh," before being mercifully cut off by Organa.

"I'm kidding, Poe." She waved a hand dismissively. "But seriously. Our air power is the Resistance's first line of defense against a ground assault. But the X-wings can't take off without their squadron leader. And three minutes-" She shook her head. "Three minutes can mean the difference between Breha escaping on the Falcon with Chewie and Luke, and stormtroopers capturing her. If you want to protect her, the best thing you can do is get into the air and start blasting bad guys. Do you understand me?"

Poe looked right into her eyes. "Yes, ma'am, I do," he said emphatically.

"Good."

He took a sip of tea and considered opening up to her. He'd always liked General Organa, since the first conversation he'd had with her. It had occurred to Poe that if his mother had lived into his adulthood, perhaps he would have had these sorts of talks with her.

"When the sirens went off," he said quickly, conspiratorially, "I had just told Breha that I was in love with her. Literally two seconds before."

Leia set her mug down, tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. She has very expressive eyebrows, Poe thought.

"You'd never told her before?"

"No, not 'til tonight. Fantastic timing, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Couldn't have been much worse. And what did she say?"

"That she wasn't sure how she felt. She's not really sure what love feels like." He shrugged. "I think she's waiting for a big wave to come over her or something."

"Hmm," Leia said noncommittally. "Well, don't rush her. She'll figure it out at her own pace."

"That's what I told her."

"After the sirens went off?" Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"It was an important conversation," Poe said defensively. "And I had to get dressed, anyway." Realizing his misstep, he stammered, "I mean, put on my…boots." He grimaced. That sounded bad even to his ears, and he wasn't even Jedi-sensitive.

Leia crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. She shook her head slowly. "Okay, hotshot. It's a good thing you're a very good pilot, you know, or I'd have to get rid of you." She made 'get rid of' sound like a euphemism for 'murder,' which, knowing that family, it probably was.

Not knowing what else to do, Poe tried his best cocky-pilot grin on her.

"Don't flirt with me, Commander," she said flatly.

The grin was wiped from his face. "No, ma'am." He looked modestly down at the table.

"I've never liked brash, over-confident pilots."

He nodded, eyes still lowered. "We can be a pain in the ass."

At that, she actually giggled. He had never heard her laugh, he realized. He looked up at her. Her mouth was curved up in a smile, but her eyes still looked as sad as usual. "You're not kidding," she said lightly. She regarded him. "Breha's going to start wondering where you are, if she's not asleep already. You should probably get back."

"Roger that," he said, standing. "Thanks for the talk, General."

Two weeks later, Poe and Rey still hadn't returned to the topic of love. He didn't mention it again, and she was fairly certain she'd misunderstood the whole thing. But their relationship was still progressing nicely. Right now she laid in bed, contentedly sprawled across Poe's chest, arms wrapped protectively around him. She liked being the same height as he; it ensured that her heart beat near his.

"I love the smell of your hair," he whispered, his nose burrowed behind her ear.

"It's my mother's shampoo. I tried it when I first got here, and told her I loved it, so she gave it to me. Apparently it's made from some sort of Alderaanian flower. Very expensive."

Poe grinned. "Strange, I never had expensive taste till I met you."

"Well, this is very exclusive stuff. My father used to go all the way to Coruscant to buy bottles of it for her. Or maybe for himself. I got the impression that he liked her to wear it."

Mulling that over, Poe pulled away from her hair. "I don't think you should use the shampoo, then."

"Why's that?"

Poe pulled her to his side so that they faced each other. "It's your mother's."

"Yes," Rey said hesitantly.

"I don't want to know her…that way. It's too personal, you know? The scent of Leia Organa's hair, that's a secret your father should've taken to the grave with him."

She blinked. That hadn't occurred to her, but she understood Poe's point. "Why do you think she gave it to me, then?"

He shrugged. "Maybe the romantic association of shampoo and Solo is too painful for her now. The part of the brain where smells are processed is right next to where memories are stored, which is why smells can trigger such sharp memories for us."

"You're talking about science again," she warned playfully. "You know what that does to me."

"Or," Poe went on, ignoring Rey's lustful look, "maybe she just lent you her shampoo because she didn't have any other kind. In any case, I like the idea of you having a special scent that I chose for you. But not this one. Why don't I go back to Naboo and buy you something?"

"No, not Naboo."

"It's a very nice planet, Brey. Totally peaceful." He paused. "Usually. I'll take my X-wing; nobody's tracking her like they are the Falcon." He kissed her hand. "Okay?"

She liked the idea of having a unique, sexy smell, but balked at the idea of Poe setting foot on that planet again. Still, he could probably take care of himself…probably. Inspiration came. "Could you take Chewie along, as a wingman?"

"Sure," he said gently. Anything to soothe her worries. "Can he fit in an X-wing?"

Rey gave him a don't-be-stupid look. "No."

"Maybe I'll ask Master Skywalker, then. He might enjoy a little outing in a T-70. If you think he's a good enough bodyguard for me."

Rey smiled, wrinkling her nose, and pulled him close to her. "Yeah, he'll do."

"Mommy?" he called, waking Breha up. "I'll talk to you. I'm sorry."

She looked at him quizzically. "Poe, it's all right," she soothed, stroking his hair. "I'm here with you."

"You're not gonna leave?"

"No," she confirmed. "No, I won't leave you."

"I'm sorry. Your skin…." He sat up suddenly, wild-eyed. Rey's hand was knocked away.

She touched his arm. "Poe?" she said gently. She'd had enough nightmares recently to know how to handle this one. Her hand returned to his face, fingers caressing his cheek. "It's all right."

Poe looked at her, steadied his breath, and touched her hand. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He laid back down with a sigh, then reached for his darling, his talisman. He held her securely, one hand around her shoulders and the other against her flat belly. "Would you like me to tell you a story?"

She turned her face to the side to nuzzle his neck. "Sure, I love stories," she said dreamily.

"Or should we just go back to sleep?" He glanced at his much-maligned alarm clock. "I'm sorry to wake you up at, uh, three forty."

"It's important to you right now. So talk to me. You were dreaming about your mother?"

Poe nodded. "When I was eight years old," he began, "I experienced the first traumatic event of my life." He held her tighter, kissed her hair. "There was an outbreak of Gordian Pox in our area, which isn't often life-threatening, unless your immune system is already compromised. But my mom had just recovered from a bad infection when she caught the pox, and so she ended up in the local hospital. I don't remember much about that, except I was mad at her for missing a big event of mine; I'd gotten some award for scouting, and my parents didn't go to the medal ceremony."

"You're an excellent scout. And you construct great tents," Rey murmured.

"Yeah, thanks. The training definitely came in handy with you. Anyway, my mother got worse and worse, until the doctors finally told her there was nothing more they could do for her. They just started giving her bigger doses of painkillers, assuming she'd overdose at some point and…it'd be over." He paused, biting his lip. "But she didn't want to be numb or drugged. She wanted to be completely lucid. So she asked them to let her go home.

"I remember lying next to my mom in her big soft bed. She's lost a lot of weight, but she had the sort of emotional strength that never shrinks. Her skin was covered with white pox, these ugly little bumps that had even appeared in her mouth and down her throat. They were invading her lungs; that's what killed her. And I…I knew she was still my mom, and I loved her, and knew she was very sick, but I didn't want to be in that bed. I didn't want those pox near me. She was trying to talk to me, you know, tell me how special I was and how much she loved me, and I kept moving away from her touch." Poe's voice broke.

Wide awake now, Rey kept her eyes on him. "You were just a little boy," she whispered. "I'm sure she understood why you shied away."

"Yeah, she understood. But my dad, he came in and saw us like that, with me practically falling off the edge of the bed while she kept reaching out for me, and I guess he didn't want her heart broken by that. So he told me to say goodbye and leave. I remember I didn't really kiss her, just sort-of brushed an air kiss above her cheek. And then I went to my grandmother's for the night. When I came back the next morning…." He stopped and looked at Rey.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"That's the end of the story. She was dead."

Rey turned over, so she was facing him from above. "Go on, Poe. Tell me the rest."

He gave her a sad half-smile. "You think there's more?"

"I know there is." She waited patiently for him to continue.

Poe realized that she was neither going back to sleep nor letting this matter drop. "When I came home the next morning," he repeated, "I ran to my parents' room, to see how my mom was doing. I felt really lousy about how I'd treated her the night before, and wanted to apologize. They were lying in the bed, arms wrapped around each other, pretty much like we are right now. My father was talking to her softly and stroking her hair. He didn't see the pox on her skin, you know? He just saw her the way he always had, strong and beautiful, sweet and peppy. She'd been gone for hours, but he just kept talking to her…kept holding her…."

Poe stopped again, and looked straight at Rey. He put his hands on either side of her face, brushing the hair away from her tearful eyes. "That's how I see love, Breha. It's not a big whoosh feeling that comes over you; it's just calm. That's how I want to love you. I want to be completely comfortable with you, so that you know with absolute certainty that I wouldn't shy away from you even if you were covered with pox or plague or bruises or belt marks or anything else. That I'll always take care of you and share everything important with you, good or bad."

Rey put a finger over his lips, and nodded. "Yeah," she said softly, "I get it." She was crying now. Crying for Poe's parents, bravely embracing in death; for her own father, betrayed by his own son and abandoned in a lonely abyss; for her bereft and brokenhearted mother; for that grief-stricken, guilt-laden little boy on Yavin; even for her younger self, marooned and unmoored, let loose among desert vultures. She cried for all the motherless children of the galaxy.

And yet, she was buoyed by the warmth and strength radiating from her pulsar Poe. He loved her, she could feel it. She trusted him completely, thus she was secure in the knowledge that together they could handle anything that life threw at them. It couldn't be much worse than what Destiny had already given her. Breha held no illusions that her life would be simple. She now felt the full weight of being a Skywalker and a Solo; she understood why Ben had chosen 'Kylo' as a moniker, a combination of their parents' names, an acknowledgment of that burden and privilege. But she believed that she-that they-would be able to make it through.

Poe held her wordlessly as she cried, unable to articulate any of this. And her silence was okay with him, she realized. Her nose was running and her face was splotchy, and he didn't mind that, either. They were, as he had said, completely comfortable with each other.

Breha wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I love you, too."

Finis